winter hue

6

inspiration for witches

  • witches of the forest and the night - they change into wolves during the day and roam the green forest of trees searching for fellow caged creatures. The set free winged and wise owls under the moon, that illuminates their pearl feathers.
  • witches of the winter and stars - foggy winter evenings become hues of blue filled with starry nights for the witches. they live in old victorian schools surrounded by trees made dead by the harsh cold season. they wear bewitched moonstones around their necks that turn them into deers enchanting the frozen forest…
  • witches of the sea and precious gems - these witches live and breathe the sacred salty air of the shore. they use precious gems to channel their inner soul to undulate crashing waves into the grey sea. they dance and drown beneath the crystal watery surface like silver sea-sirens.
  • witches of burning fire and flames - golden wreathed witches filled with the radiance of bright fire and flames. they use blazing candles to illuminate the darkness in their cathedral of trees. their familiars are foxes as red as the sun and as sly as smoke from their fires. 

One last time;

I once,

Heard the ocean,

Speak to me,

In a dream,

That wasn’t mine,

But in a present,

That was borrowed,

And a memory,

That was surrogate,

I walked,

Beside a heart,

That is no longer mine,

On the sand,

I felt,

Underneath,

My feet crumbling,

With our thoughts,

Blowing in the wind,

Tasting our laughter,

I kept this thought,

In the deep secrets,

Of my mind,

Though you created,

This reality,

With words that said,

‘I wish you could be here,’

You took a part,

Of me,

With you forever,

Now I stay,

In a landlocked,

House,

Where I can still,

Hear the ocean in my sleep,

The waves crash at my window,

And I tell them,

You’re no longer here,

As I drown in tears,

I sometime wonder,

If my skin,

Still carries the hue,

Of winter evenings,

And if redemption,

In the shade of twilight,

Means,

Belonging to your arms,

As I wake up,

Carried by you,

One last time.

10

Happy 101st birthday, Douglas Slocombe (b. 10th Feb 1913)

Douglas is responsible for one of the greatest in-camera effects ever produced on film: six D'Ascoynes in one shot of Kind Hearts and Coronets, and he is rightly celebrated for it as even now - 65 years later - it’s seamless and perfect, and also unshowy. His work with Ealing gave him plenty of opportunity for creative cinematography effects - making the White Suit very very white; showing what Joe is reading in the Trump in Hue and Cry; the dizzying run down the Eiffel Tower steps in The Lavender Hill Mob, to name a few. But he marries this creativity to his experience as a photojournalist and documentary film-maker before the war to lend his Ealing films a realism that was to become a characteristic of the studio.

His work at Ealing also shows his ability with light and shade, his use of shadows and angles to create atmosphere and tension: Michael Redgrave in the train at the beginning of The Captive Heart, Alec Guinness and Stanley Holloway waiting for a burglar in the dark in The Lavender Hill Mob. And so this mastery of shadows and angles is perfect for one of the most beautifully shot black-and-white British films, The Servant; where every shadow and every mirror reflection shows the growing twists and warps of the story. 

Had he not lost his sight in his later years it’s entirely possible that he would have continued working: he made the transition to colour and technicolor wonderfully, bringing quality and class to films as varied as The Italian Job, (elevating what is an average film into a thing of beauty) The Great Gatsby, and the first three Indiana Jones films. He is brilliant without being obtrusive: a true master of the medium. 

trapped-in-monochrome  asked:

Awe sorry to hear you're sad!! Alrighty if you had to take your favorite colour and rename it something, like not another colour but something to describe it. What would you call it?

ah, it’s all right! but ooo, I really like this question! So, hmm I’d call it ‘Passion’. it’d be the color of a winter sunset with vibrant hues of red and orange, mixed with soft tints of pink. It’s intense but soft. A color that makes you feel alive and loved, and at ease. 

Down Time

Spring rain falls
Summer heat soars
Autumn hues fade
Winter blues roar

Mornings disturb peace
Days absorb light
Evenings bear reflection
Night awakens fright

Seconds seem like hours
Hours feel like days
Days bleed together
Just another season’s haze

.
Sck060315

carminecrossroads  asked:

Standing carefully at the barn door, not yet entering the working man's domain, she remained hesitant. Deep down she felt like this wasn't going to go well - how could it? - but she still felt the driving need to see him and speak with him. "Levi?" Cerise hated the way her voice shook when she said his name. "Are you angry with me?" She had managed to convince herself that he had probably heard about her fling with Knox.

Even though the sun had started to kiss across the horizon and most of the bases’s contents had begun to sit down for dinner or slip into bed early, Levi sat like he always did in his barn at his littered work shop; only the overhead florecant lamp illuminating the space he sat at in the far back corner of the massive wooden work shed. Causing his hunched over form to casted in random shifts of shadows that bled into the rest of the air around him, while other parts of him were brilliantly lit. Occasionally allowing the tattoo on his neck to be seen more clearing while the rest of the time the tilt of his head kept it shrowded in the shadow of his tilited white blonde head; looking complely engrossed in his work as he paid little mind to the time or the meals he regularly skipped. Hearing his name slip across the room in a heart-wrenched tone of a familiar voice, the engineer’s head snapped up to turn the focus of his winter weathered hues on the beautiful blonde that stepped in, looking distraught and eclipsed in worry. Even though the man hardly said a word it was plain on his face that his heart dropped in concern at the state she was in and the single question that had him turning fully in his seat to face her, an arm held out for her to come to him for comfort. “Come'ere pet.” He breathed out in that familiar low storm brewing tone that could both sooth and excite all at the same time, though at the moment for her it might be a worry what hellish down pour that same voice could give if she angered him. Despite her fears nothing on his face nor a movement in his muscles said that he held any resentment or rage toward her in anyway, in fact nothing about him had skipped a beat from the last moment she had seen him until now; still the same stoic and simply kind blu he had always been.

@carminecrossroads